


Touching Sanctity

by WindStainedDreams



Series: Like Calls to Like (And Bonds Us All) [1]
Category: The Grisha Trilogy - Leigh Bardugo
Genre: F/F, F/M, Femslash February, Femslash February 2017, Hero Worship, Sankta Alina, dubious reciprocity of feelings, prompt:sacred, saint worship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-04
Updated: 2017-02-04
Packaged: 2018-09-21 21:38:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9567821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WindStainedDreams/pseuds/WindStainedDreams
Summary: Genya is allowed near only because she can heal her and make her presentable, but everyone else she had come here with was banned from visiting her.  Alina wonders how much that bothers Tamar, whether the other girl sees only a living Saint and not her friend.  It is not the time to ask.





	

 

 

“ _Sankta_.” 

 

The word stops her in her tracks, and she turns slowly to face Tamar.  Having just finished training with the Soldat Sol, her friend is glistening with sweat despite the dampness of the caves. Tamar’s chest rises and falls with her heavy breathing.  Alina is envious.  Her own frail body can barely handle the walk between the large hall in which they hold the morning and evening services and her cell.  To once again be able to run, fight and breathe normally is something Alina wants almost as desperately as the firebird.  

 

Ever conscious of the eyes of the Priestguard,  Alina waits with a neutral face as the Shu girl catches up to the small party.  She so rarely sees her friends, kept apart “for her own good”, that it is a shock to see one so close to her.  Although, Tamar and Tolya seem to have slightly more leeway when it comes to following the Apparat’s orders.  Still, Alina is unsure if she trusts the twins, though she knows she owes them her life.  It is an inner conflict she has not yet been able to resolve, even with her long hours of contemplation in the archives, or her cell.

 

“ _Sankta Alina_ ,” Tamar says, stopping a respectful distance from the Sun Summoner.

 

Alina stays quiet, mild as she waits for the reason Tamar has stopped them on their way to the Kettle.  She has managed to get an hour with Genya today and does not want to miss any of the time she could spend in the warmth.  Despite her eagerness to be near the hearths, she does not let herself shift impatiently.  If her time at the White Cathedral has taught Alina anything about dealing with her followers, it is that a show of patience often brings about a greater reward.

 

“I was hoping that I could accompany you to the Kettle, _Sankta_.  I have instructions for the cooks about meals for the Soldat Sol, and would like a moment of your company, if I may.”

 

Alina studies Tamar closely.  The words do not sound as if they are entirely Tamar’s, and it takes a while for Alina to place what bothers her about them.  Aboard the _Volkvolny_ , Tamar had said little, but what she did say was lighthearted and almost carefree, teasing and sarcastic.  At the Little Palace, she had been friendly and formal, always careful, but nonetheless relaxed enough to speak freely with Alina.  These strange words must be the Apparat’s grovelling to have such a jarring dissonance.  The knowledge stings, but under the watchful eyes of her guards, she has no choice but to accept Tamar’s request and go with her to the Kettle.  

 

“Of course you may, Tamar.  Please, walk with me.” Alina stretches out an arm, linking it with Tamar’s as she steps up to join her.  Although it sets her teeth on edge, she allows the Shu girl to take some of her weight as they walk.  Alina has to keep up the charade of the weakened Saint.  

 

They move slowly along the caves, the cold invading their skin.  Alina leans closer to Tamar, eager for warmth, contact and company, no matter what reason Tamar has for being allowed to visit her.  Genya is allowed near only because she can heal her and make her presentable, but everyone else she had come here with was banned from visiting her.  Alina wonders how much that bothers Tamar, whether the other girl sees only a living Saint and not her friend.  It is not the time to ask.  

 

The Kettle is warmer than the rest of the caves and caverns, but it is still barely enough to warm Alina as she slowly crosses the floor to where Genya sits by the main hearth, shawl covering her head.  Tamar steps away to speak to the cooks, voice soft.  Alina has just enough time to shake her head slightly at Genya’s raised eyebrow before Tamar collects a spare stool and moves to sit near them.  

 

The Priestguards at the doors watch them closely, but Tamar merely sits beside Alina, watching her work on Genya’s face with the salve David had prepared.  Alina and Genya say nothing about her attempts to summon, and slowly Tamar starts chatting with Genya.  She asks the cooks for more porridge for the three of them.  Tamar insists on Alina having a second helping, despite the other two having to finish off most of her portion.  Inane, unthreatening.  Alina can’t help but wonder at Tamar’s – The Apparat’s – motivations.  Of all the friends to send, Tamar seems the least likely to get him whatever it is that he wants from her, now that she doubts their loyalty.

 

Once Alina finishes eating what little she can and Genya and Tamar have their fill, the three Grisha sit and sip hot tea until the Priestguards approach.  It is then that Alina once again becomes startlingly aware of something strange.  It is like looking at her reflection in a dark mirror, reality distorted at the edges. Tamar stands swiftly and stops the guards from coming any closer.  Alina sits there in silence and watches the confrontation unfold.  

 

“The Apparat wishes to know that she is improving and asked that I examine her health.  We need to know that _Razrusha’ya_ is not making her ill,” Tamar says slowly and clearly, with a mistrustful glance at Genya, who has wrapped her shawl around her head once more.  Alina cannot see her face.  “I will take her to her chamber.  You may station yourselves at the ends of the corridor, if you must insist on guarding her despite my presence, but I will do this in the privacy appropriate to a Saint and a woman.”

 

A curl of unease slides into Alina’s mind at Tamar’s words, settles heavily in her gut.  Something is wrong.  The threats against Genya are obvious, despicable, and Alina can’t help but focus on the danger to her friend, even as the Priestguards crowd closer and glare at the Tailor.  They seem to forget their fear of her scars, her curse.  It is feeble protection, but Alina can see how thin it truly is as one of the guards starts questioning her harshly.  Then there is the heady rush of understanding that this means there won’t be Priestguards looming over her when she goes back to her cell.  This kind of privacy should not be possible for her.  Why is it being offered now, after depriving her of it for months?

 

Tamar takes her by the elbow and they step past the grumbling Priestguards.  The walk to her chambers is long, Alina’s frailty setting the pace for them.  Tamar does not seem to mind.  She merely walks silently; ignoring the glances Alina can’t help but throw her way, and the glare of Alina’s guards.  The Summoner does not lean on her as much as they shuffle along.  Perhaps it is in a vague hope that she will save Genya from punishment if she seems slightly healthier now that they have left the Kettle.

 

At her cell door Tamar glares until the Priestguards disappear around the corner, before opening the lock and letting Alina in.  The room is dark, empty but for her bed and a small table.  Tamar lights the battered lantern with her flint, turns the flame down low, and waits.

 

Alina stands in the middle of her room, confused and hurt and so tired of everything.  Tamar seems to sense this, because she stops by the table, giving her _Sankta_ as much space as the small chamber allows.

 

“I am going to tell them that Genya is healing you the best she can, that the effects of the Darkling’s attack are still lingering.  I will not separate the two of you.” 

 

The promise is there in the quiet steel of the other girl’s voice, and Alina feels foolish to have doubted her.  

 

“Then why?” 

 

“I needed to see you, to be near you again.  It has been too long since I could stand by your side, and I miss my friend dearly.  This was a pretense that they would accept, but I will probably not be able to use it again.” 

 

There is desperation in Tamar’s voice.  But it doesn’t ring of the fanaticism for her _Sankta Alina_ that Alina has come to expect.  Alina looks at the other girl and sees that her breathing is still heavy, despite the chance to cool down from training.  Alina suddenly remembers the way the Shu girl’s eyes followed some of the Grisha at the Little Palace, the smile she would toss to the girls giggling during sparring lessons with Botkin.  The way Botkin kept insisting that no man would marry Tamar.   

 

Alina swallows, breath pausing in her throat as her eyes trace the bronze skin of Tamar’s throat, follow the lines of her body to her breasts.  It is… _strange_.  She had never thought to be impressed with Tamar beyond her fighting skills, her courage.  She had never dreamed of looking at her the way she looks at the Darkling or Mal or Nikolai.  And yet, her eyes do not stop tracing Tamar’s figure, lingering in places she realizes with a jolt of heat that she had avoided looking at too closely before, scared her desire for someone other than Mal could be so strong.  

 

There is a heat under her skin, sharp as lightning and just as unbalanced, and Alina almost wants to let it break her apart.  She fears it might.  It’s _wrong_.  Her entire life has been waiting for Mal.  Waiting for Mal to come back from a hunt, for him to notice her, for him to stop laughing with the other girls and be _hers_.   A life of waiting for Mal to be the first one to touch her, the first one to bring her release, to see her fall apart from something other than fear or anger or grief.  Her being belongs to him with a strength that not even the Darkling’s pull can fully erase from her.  Mal, Mal, Mal, her heart beats with his name in every feeble pulse.  And this shattering echo of Tamar’s fevered passion, this twisting hunger inside her; it destroys all of that waiting, all of that love for him and leaves nothing but burning ash and desire in its wake.  

 

She trembles with the barely leashed forces raging within her.  The dryness in her mouth is the emptiness she feels when her lips brush Tamar’s.  Her unsteadiness is the rocking of the waves beneath the ship where they met.  The tingling numbness at her betrayal is arousal coaxed to the surface of her skin as Tamar traces it with reverent hands, lightning spilling from Alina’s fingertips to shock her as she touches Tamar.  Touches and touches and touches, greedy, desperate, empty.   

 

Alina pretends it’s the passion that makes it hard to breathe while Tamar worships her, each kiss followed by a breathless “ _Sankta_ ” falling from her lips.  

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Week 1 - Sacred 
> 
> So, for Femslash February [ LazyWriterGirl ](https://lazywritergirl.tumblr.com/) and I exchanged a set of prompts we would do as a sort of challenge, because we're nerds like that. Each week has 3 prompts, so you should all see new fic every few days or so for the next month. 
> 
> Each prompt, except for Week 2, features a different femslash pairing from any one of the five books in the Grishaverse by Leigh Bardugo. Let's get some lady lovin' and some rarepairs up in this fandom. 
> 
> As always, please feel free to leave a comment for me here on the archive or [ on my Tumblr ](https://tinbramblearts.tumblr.com) so I know what you guys think. 
> 
> Happy reading!


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